


time

by pastelwolfie



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt, Internal Monologue, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Sad, chapter 2 is going to be pure fluff, i am capable of tooth-rotting fluff tho, i am incapable of fluff with no angst, you just can’t tell yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwolfie/pseuds/pastelwolfie
Summary: what if ranboo went home?not home, not really- just his birthplace.why would he break the one rule that everyone followed?title inspired by the wonderful song called ‘time’ by hans zimmer from the movie inception. highly recommend listening to the soundtrack (time in particular) and listening to time as you read this fic.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), platonic - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this before today’s streams (20.01.21) and holy SHIT that stream was poggers
> 
> i’m calling it now:  
> wil and schlatt get revived, dream uses his favour + reviving abilities to get the arctic empire on his side/the syndicate and escape the prison  
> everyone just wants to go murder tommy at this rate lmao
> 
> also i’m scared for season 3 of the smp but life’s a party ig

the one thing everyone had unanimously decided not to do. the one thing everyone agreed on. the one rule everyone followed. the only thing that unified them, the only common link between warring sides.  
don’t go to the end.

he’d already broke that rule- he’d come from the end, but it wasn’t his fault he was born there. not really. was it?  
he couldn’t remember.

he never remembered anything, did he?  
he could never remember the things he wanted to, yet the things he wished so badly to erase from his brain seemed imprinted into his mind.  
neglect. pain. dream. exile. lava. water. explosions. pain. screaming. suffering. betrayal.

none of the joy, the happiness, the friendships- they’d all leave him at a moment’s notice.  
why? why him?

it was snowing lightly, but he couldn’t care less. it was like the drifts of snow that burnt his skin was cancelled out by the cold bite of the winter air. a balance.  
a small bag, his ender chest, and all his pets. that’s all he needed.  
it was more than he deserved.  
still, it they were the only constant for him to cling on to, a desperate anchor to keep his mind from drifting too far from reality.  
his twisted, fucked up reality.

maybe, maybe he could go back home. that’s what he’d try. to go home.  
but he didn’t have one, did he? not home, no. his birthplace. somewhere where betrayal and friends wouldn’t matter.  
he’d tried. he’d tried so, so hard. he thought he was good, he was keeping himself together, he really thought that-

he thought.  
he never knew. he couldn’t, being the amnesiac he was. he couldn’t even remember how much he had tried at this rate, only clear thought being that he had tried too much. too hard.

the echoing of his own footsteps filled the heavy air, thick with the weight of the overworld the stronghold was carved from. his heart and his pets were close seconds.

all his bag contained were supplies for a farm, so that he could set up and keep his pets well fed. he hadn’t brought any for himself, clearly not. he wasn’t important- hence why he was leaving, but his pets. they’d done nothing wrong. they’d been stuck with him, the least he could do was repay them.  
he couldn’t take ranbun, batthew, ranbird or ranbirb, though. he’d loose them too easily, so instead, he left them on techno’s doorstep, explaining in a poorly-written note that he could do what he wanted with them, but just please, please, please- for their sakes, not his, make sure they didn’t die. wether that be release them back into the wild or keep them, as long as they weren’t slaughtered.   
they were probably better off without him, anyways. 

12 ender eyes.  
is that all he needed to go back?  
12 ender eyes.

the one rule that everyone followed. everyone bowed to that one rule- no other. don’t go to the end.  
of course he’d be the one to break it, wouldn’t he?  
they wouldn’t follow him, though. they’d never break the rule. so he would be alone. safe?  
alone.  
so terribly, terribly alone.

but alone would be better that the exclusion of the overworld, intended or not. his best company was the voice in his head telling him he was a horrible person.  
horrible because he couldn’t remember. because he could never do anything right. because he was weak. because he has no family. no true friends. no purpose. no drive. 

one step.  
one step and he’d be gone. he’d never have to face them again, never have to break another friendship. start another war. betray another friendship.

the silence was deafening. his through were raging.  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.  
why not?  
why?  
do it.  
wait.   
now.  
one step.  
back off.  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.  
what are you doing?  
why aren’t you going?  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.

his name felt unfamiliar to his own ears, tears beginning to flow down his face as he stared into the starry abyss of the open portal.   
one step.   
he’d be gone, never to be seen again.  
then why was it taking so long?

why shouldn’t he go through?  
the weak hope he grasped onto of being wanted, being loved. he ached for it, yearned for the attention. the attention that wasn’t given because he’d done something wrong.   
the portion of him that begged to stay, with the familiar faces- the family he loved who didn’t love him back. what if they did? they didn’t. but if-?  
he was still a child. a child grasping for empty praises. praises he’d never get. not here. not anywhere. 

why go through?  
maybe the familiarity of his birthplace would satiate his hunger for affection. maybe they’d be there for him. his birth family. maybe they’d recognise him and swoon over their lost child, home at long last from a dangerous journey he had embarked on all that time ago.   
maybe, just maybe, he’d be loved.

one step.  
one breath.  
done.

—🥂—


	2. come home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath of a decision that he may or may not regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit i got carried away didnt i??
> 
> um  
> we went from maybe 1k words to 5k words?? hahaha   
> um  
> enjoy some more angst and comfort ig?? pFFf
> 
> also I KNOW i spell ‘breathe’ as ‘breath’ a lot it’s 3am cut me some slack :’’D

the one thing everyone had unanimously decided not to do. the one thing everyone agreed on. the one rule everyone followed. the only thing that unified them, the only common link between warring sides.  
don’t go to the end.

he’d already broke that rule- he’d come from the end, but it wasn’t his fault he was born there. not really. was it?  
he couldn’t remember.

he never remembered anything, did he?  
he could never remember the things he wanted to, yet the things he wished so badly to erase from his brain seemed imprinted into his mind.  
neglect. pain. dream. exile. lava. water. explosions. pain. screaming. suffering. betrayal.

none of the joy, the happiness, the friendships- they’d all leave him at a moment’s notice.  
why? why him?

it was snowing lightly, but he couldn’t care less. it was like the drifts of snow that burnt his skin was cancelled out by the cold bite of the winter air. a balance.  
a small bag, his ender chest, and all his pets. that’s all he needed.  
it was more than he deserved.  
still, it they were the only constant for him to cling on to, a desperate anchor to keep his mind from drifting too far from reality.  
his twisted, fucked up reality.

maybe, maybe he could go back home. that’s what he’d try. to go home.  
but he didn’t have one, did he? not home, no. his birthplace. somewhere where betrayal and friends wouldn’t matter.  
he’d tried. he’d tried so, so hard. he thought he was good, he was keeping himself together, he really thought that-

he thought.  
he never knew. he couldn’t, being the amnesiac he was. he couldn’t even remember how much he had tried at this rate, only clear thought being that he had tried too much. too hard.

the echoing of his own footsteps filled the heavy air, thick with the weight of the overworld the stronghold was carved from. his heart and his pets were close seconds.

all his bag contained were supplies for a farm, so that he could set up and keep his pets well fed. he hadn’t brought any for himself, clearly not. he wasn’t important- hence why he was leaving, but his pets. they’d done nothing wrong. they’d been stuck with him, the least he could do was repay them.  
he couldn’t take ranbun, batthew, ranbird or ranbirb, though. he’d loose them too easily, so instead, he left them on techno’s doorstep, explaining in a poorly-written note that he could do what he wanted with them, but just please, please, please- for their sakes, not his, make sure they didn’t die. wether that be release them back into the wild or keep them, as long as they weren’t slaughtered.   
they were probably better off without him, anyways. 

12 ender eyes.  
is that all he needed to go back?  
12 ender eyes.

the one rule that everyone followed. everyone bowed to that one rule- no other. don’t go to the end.  
of course he’d be the one to break it, wouldn’t he?  
they wouldn’t follow him, though. they’d never break the rule. so he would be alone. safe?  
alone.  
so terribly, terribly alone.

but alone would be better that the exclusion of the overworld, intended or not. his best company was the voice in his head telling him he was a horrible person.  
horrible because he couldn’t remember. because he could never do anything right. because he was weak. because he has no family. no true friends. no purpose. no drive. 

one step.  
one step and he’d be gone. he’d never have to face them again, never have to break another friendship. start another war. betray another friendship.

the silence was deafening. his through were raging.  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.  
why not?  
why?  
do it.  
wait.   
now.  
one step.  
back off.  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.  
what are you doing?  
why aren’t you going?  
do it.  
do it.  
don’t.

his name felt unfamiliar to his own ears, tears beginning to flow down his face as he stared into the starry abyss of the open portal.   
one step.   
he’d be gone, never to be seen again.  
then why was it taking so long?

why shouldn’t he go through?  
the weak hope he grasped onto of being wanted, being loved. he ached for it, yearned for the attention. the attention that wasn’t given because he’d done something wrong.   
the portion of him that begged to stay, with the familiar faces- the family he loved who didn’t love him back. what if they did? they didn’t. but if-?  
he was still a child. a child grasping for empty praises. praises he’d never get. not here. not anywhere. 

why go through?  
maybe the familiarity of his birthplace would satiate his hunger for affection. maybe they’d be there for him. his birth family. maybe they’d recognise him and swoon over their lost child, home at long last from a dangerous journey he had embarked on all that time ago.   
maybe, just maybe, he’d be loved.

one step.  
one breath.  
done.

—🥂—

the howling wind was abnormally loud. deafening. with each gust of snow-flurried air that ran rampant across the snowy plains, a cold layer of tension seemed to coat the air, like snow piling at the door.  
thankfully it wasn’t heavy enough to block them in, but stepping outside was practically guaranteed frostbite at this rate, snow or not.  
the whirling of the wind echoed the whirling of his thoughts, for once louder than the voices that hammered away in his mind.  
he had opened his door that morning to find 2 birds, a bat on a leash and a rabbit on a leash on his front porch with a letter. seeing how they were all half frozen to death, he brought them in and let them by the fire, all willingly snuggled up together on a blanket by the fire.   
he kept the leashes on the ones with leashes, though.  
that was a concern in of itself, but the letter twisted his gut in a foreboding dread.

“ hi techno, or phil.

please take care of ranbirb, ranbird, ranbun and batthew. i don’t mind what you do just please make sure they don’t die, for their sakes not mine. i know you don’t care but they did nothing wrong. 

i’m sorry  
-ranboo “

okay, what the fuck? he had called phil as soon as he read it, and had checked ranboo’s shack. no one in bed. nothing in the ‘comfort room’ and items haphazardly strewn around. as if searched through in a rush with minimal time to tidy up.

by the time phil had arrived on the scene, techno had found the footprints in the snow.  
one pair. two. three. four. five.  
four four-legged animals and one two-legged pair.  
at that moment, the image branded itself into his mind.  
ranboo. jeffrey. dogboo. enderchest. enderpearl.

they’d managed to track the trail to the... ocean?  
they had gotten to... the ocean... when the weather took a turn and they had to turn away. 

by the time it had cleared, any trace of him had vanished with the weather, so they spent the rest of the day searching the near areas. he couldn’t have gotten that far with so many animals, right? especially seeing how ‘badly’ behaved some of them were.

one day turned into one week, then one month, then two.

after the first few days phil made a trip back to the former l’manburg general area. no one was really unified anymore so there wasn’t really one name he could throw at them. he’d met with snowchester, niki, the badlands and anyone else in the local vicinity and find them he needed to talk. seriously.

thankfully, they all came, so he was able to break the news.  
they had news to break of their own in return, because apparently the search party they had managed to organise would be another 2 people bigger if they were lucky.

he wasn’t expecting to see schlatt again. ever.  
even less so his son. his fully healed, very much alive son.  
when he says his son, he doesn’t mean the crazed man who had blown up his nation all that time ago, but the boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes whenever he successfully managed to ‘get one over’ on someone.

so that was news.

their efforts were still fruitless. ranboo was nowhere to be found, not even the briefest sighting. they had tipped off all the nearest nations, even some farther away, but not a single sighting. in all of dreamsmp, hermitcraft, epicsmp, offlinesmp or hell- even greater hypixel.  
nothing. nada.

three months in and they got desperate. very, very desperate.  
tommy paid a visit to sam’s prison.  
he left with a grim expression, and returned with one even darker.  
that’s when he first learned of schlatt’s book. the one that had gotten dream on his side, the one that had him revived. and his son.  
he felt instinctually inclined to trust the book.

tommy reported back at the meeting they had orchestrated that the book was conscious. ever adapting and changing, he mentioned how dream had preformed some magic of his own to ‘upgrade’ the book, so to say. grant it more of a sentience, in a way.

tommy had finished by saying dream had ‘mentioned that it had status on where people were, be it overworld, nether or end.’  
it would at least narrow the search, or end it.  
if he wasn’t listed, then they’d know for sure that ranboo was gone.  
for good.

it took them another month to find that stupid fucking book and retrieve it.  
somewhere around the 2 month mark into their search, schlatt’d sobered. by god did it make a difference.  
they went from being dragged down by drunken and slurred insults, to cackling and snorting at witty jokes.  
they were happy, unified. together.   
but it felt like they cared more about the joy of their unity than the reason they had unified.

the search whittled.   
techno, phil, tubbo, tommy, niki, fundy and wilbur were all that really remained.  
from such a strong and promising start of a search team, they’d really come a long way from the top.  
they didn’t have quackity, bad, skeppy, hell- even eret had left the search. sapnap and punz lost interest really quickly, while sam and jack both just... faded, merged back into the shadows they emerged from.

techno wanted to blame them, but he couldn’t. the search wasn’t the only thing happening. people had personal plans and interests, and he was in no position to criticise those.

so when they did read the book, more people present than had been in a decent while, everyone was shocked into stupor.  
most of them had attended to finally get closure, to know that ranboo was dead and not lost, so they they could start whatever mourning they saw fit and move on.

“he’s in the end.”  
“what?”

silence. almost painfully so. tension laid bare in the air like it had the day he had first received the letter and ranboo’s assortment of pets.  
pets he’d most definitely not pampered, no. certainly not.

and in the at moment, faux cold like the howling wind of his home, the realisation looked him in the eyes and spat mockingly at him, driving his emotions to the floor.  
grief? shame? idiocy? anger? fear?

“his tracks lead to the ocean the last we saw of him...”  
phil supplied, a mirrored expression of horror on his face.  
only niki mimicked their features, realisation sinking into her mind.

“and? is that relevant?”  
his gaze drifted across the room, meeting the eyes of those who dared raise their gazes to find his.  
he spent not a moment more than needed glaring quackity - the person who spoke - into the metaphorical floor, before replying in an almost animalistic growl that almost shocked him:  
“there’s a stronghold there.”

and suddenly everything was loud.  
there were whispers of shock, fear, confusion, but there was the yelling.  
their yelling.  
‘end pog!’  
‘took you long enough lmfao’  
‘ranbaby!! find him!!’  
‘he’s probs dead by now pfff’  
‘blood’  
‘technofind’  
‘e’  
‘poggers we break the rules!!’  
‘who needs rules anyways’  
‘pahaha they didn’t knoooow’  
‘blood for the blood god’

through the yelling, the screams in his mind that overlaid, making each one indistinguishable from the next,   
he had left. obviously, he was followed, but no one dared try to talk him down. as if they could read it in his eyes that any interruption would not result in pleasantries. 

a brilliant sunset painted the skies as he emerged from the nether, the cool feeling of the portal’s magical barrier refreshing against his skin, having not stopped a heartbeat during the long trek though that hellscape. 

the wind tore at his bare skin like a ravaged dog, stealing the warmth from his body like a greedy dragon. through his armour, his cloths, his cape, he still felt the hollow cold as the setting sun illuminated the snow, headed straight for the horizon over the nearby ocean. the crunching of fresh snow under his cloven feet filled his ears, as he focused on drowning out the internal sounds with external.  
tens of pairs of feet crunching through the snow behind him, beside him, but none in front.  
this was his charge. 

for being tough, ‘evil’ and home to thousands of voices that demanded blood, he was surprisingly sentimental. and he had gotten attached.   
first with tommy, then with ranboo. the difference here was that ranboo wasn’t actually a good-for-nothing traitor, as far as he could tell, and had just... went to the end? for whatever reason?   
okay yeah, maybe they were more similar than he’d like to think.  
wishful thinking, though, and he ignored those thoughts as he led everyone down the shaft that ended in the stronghold.

he was vaguely aware of the awe and fear radiating off of the people following him, but electing to ignore it in favour of finding the portal, he soldiered onwards.

the stronghold was cold, air heavy with the weight of the ocean crashing above, though you could scarcely hear the lapping waves through the thick of rock that protected the caverns from the world above. 

any semblance of hope or faint slimmer of miracle that dream’s stupid book was wrong seemed to dissipate right then and there, as he entered the cavern holding the portal.   
12 keys. 12 eyes of ender.  
crafted, carried, placed and used.

the portal was open.

—🥂—

light. cold. sharp.  
the air lacked the scent of warmth and familiarity that the overworld held, stinging his nose as he emerged on the other side of the portal. he’d grown accustomed to it, of course, but it was still... lacking.

time was lost. there was no sun, no moon, no stars. just a gaping, dark abyss of black. it was bland and dull, cold and muted yellow against the void. there was a city, of course, but it was abandoned. empty.   
lonely.

his only company were his pets and the voice inside his head that told him he wasn’t worth it.  
a small farm and a little hut. not a house, not a home. an accommodation. permanent accommodation.  
there was that small part of him, though, that wished to be found. to be looked for, but the logical part of his mind squashed it each time.   
most days- no, not days. there was no day because it was always night, but it was never night because there was no day.   
most times that he was awake he’d look after the poor souls he’d dragged with him. they were happy enough, so at least, at the very least, he could do that right. they were fed and probably had better beds than he did, so he had that to cling on to.

it was meek and dull, his thoughts becoming louder and louder by the hour. he didn’t have anything to do, because anything he could theoretically do in the end he didn’t have the motivation for- and his inability to act upon anything just dragged him down more.

more often than not he would be sat at the edge of the floating island, staring outwards to whatever was beyond.  
if he jumped, would he just keep on falling? forever? was there a bottom? a top? an edge?  
one way to find out...

no.  
dogboo. enderpearl. enderchest. jeffery.  
he had responsibilities. 

after whatever span of time it was of the dull routine, when the bags under his eyes seemed as permanent as his sleepless nightmares, and the reddened marks of teartracks down his face, he lost.  
again.

sat on the ledge again, enderchest came to sit with him.   
cats are supposed to land on their feet, but what do they do if they never stop falling?  
he almost jumped off after his cat. enderchest was his.. his responsibility. was.

the world seemed to get even darker. somehow. maybe it was.

his only comfort when he cried was his pets, who for whatever reason stayed by his side and let him hug them, hold them close, cling to their warmth. more often than not, though, he would sit and stare into the abyss. enderchest was there, somewhere, alone. afraid. hungry. cold.  
dead.

he got the notification on his communicator, which is how it ended smashed.  
‘enderchest wandered to far and managed to leave the land of the living.’

time seemed to drag on, but it couldn’t- there was no time, no night or day, no morning or evening, no sunsets or sunrises, no dusk or dawn. just black. empty. 

why did he come here?  
why?  
why?

he couldn’t remember.  
nothing ever happened, so the scarce memories he did have played in his mind like a broken record, falling from his mind and being replaced by only the thoughts swimming in his head.  
surely his friends would come for him, right?   
he didn’t have those. if he did, surely not anymore. he left. he betrayed them. again? did he betray them before?  
he could never quite remember.

even if he wanted to return, to go home- the portal was hundreds and hundreds of blocks up, and he had nowhere near the required materials to reach it.  
he didn’t have any tools besides necessities for farming, either. it wasn’t like he ate much though, anyways.

so everytime he woke from a restless sleep of nightmarish screams and warped memories, he’d sit and cry, stare into the abyss, tend to his animals then contemplate his existence in silence, until he couldn’t anymore and went back to his bed and tried to repeat the circuit again.  
and again.  
and again.  
and again.

—🥂—

they’re all gathered in the portal room, gazes fixated on the portal that reflects the sky as it glimmers with stars that they were unable to see from their location beneath the sea. there’s a minute of hollow silence, before phil breaks the unsettling quiet:  
“whose going in?”

not for the first time, techno is unbelievably glad that he knows phil. the way he spoke, despite being somewhat awkward, held a tone of such resilience and determination that if techno didn’t have the hard will he had managed to acquire over the years, he’d have instantly bent to it and followed it.  
of course, techno was also hellbent on finding ranboo, but that was besides the point.  
“i will.” he spoke up almost immediately, turning to face the gathering of people that had filed in behind him. phil nodded, and techno knew that even if he wanted too, phil couldn’t stop him.  
“me, i’ll go.” tubbo’s volunteer was a bit of a shock, but recounting history briefly in his mind, he couldn’t help but grin inwardly at the dedication. he expressed the gratitude in a stiff nod.   
it went without saying that if tubbo went, so did tommy, but techno wasn’t sure that was a good idea, so he decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.  
“i’ll come.” the voice was gentle, caring almost. techno’s brows raised, but he accepted bad’s request when he added, “i can help if he’s hurt.”

and that was 4 of them already volunteering themselves to travel to another dimension. 4 was quite enough, though, so he spoke up- formulating a plan in his mind as he went:  
“alright. you guys wait here, we’ll go in and get him back. be prepared, we don’t know if we’ll be chased out or if he’ll be injured, just be prepared to break the portal or heal any injuries. alright?” there was a silent wave of acknowledgement through the group, before he nodded, turning to head up the steps and stand at the edge of the portal. tubbo, phil, bad and tommy all followed suit.   
in that moment, he turned his glare to tommy, growling:  
“tommy, stay here.”  
“what? what the fuck? why?”  
“seeing how your last encounter went, i don’t think it’s best for you to come.”  
“you just don’t want me to come because you don’t like me, isn’t that it? scared i’m going to-“  
“tommy for once in your life, please, just shut the fuck up.”  
phil’s harsh words silenced his son, who backed away on unsteady feet, where wilbur placed a tight hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a reassuring notion. he didn’t speak.  
techno exhaled, turning back to the portal. he had plenty resources to build if emergency shelter was needed, a few potions of different verities, his usual arson of weapons and of course, he had phil, tubbo and bad. letting out a sharp breath, he nodded to the rest of the search team, before bracing himself for the feeling of being enveloped by the magic of a portal as he stepped in.

the first thing he noticed was how cold the air was, a vast difference to the heat of the stronghold’s portal room, stuffy with the number of people crammed inside.  
then there was the bleak, dull aura. it seemed to suck the colour from things, make everything dull. no stars, no moon, no sun- nothing. just a bleak, black void. even the stone beneath their feet was a muted yellow tone, the grim colour a contrast from the sky, yet still managed to contribute to the expansive colourlessness of the dimension.   
he followed the obsidian path to the main floating island, noting mentally how there was no portal on this side of the doorway they had taken. that was expected, however, he’d read up in an old book a while back that the portal back was randomly placed in this flipside dimension.

the sound of their footsteps and the rustling of fabric filled the void, feeling unfamiliar to their ears.   
in the empty air, techno could tell things didn’t work the same here. what would be the gentle rustle of their clothes seemed to be loud enough to drown out sound of ocean waves from the top of a beach. like their senses were heightened.

another thing he wasn’t expecting was for the place to be abandoned. floating towers anchored to dead purple trees, tethered by mangled purple vines, floated vacantly in the darkness, devoid of all inhabitants.  
he was expecting endermen, like the books had said.

the settlement immediately jumped out of him, obviously different to the rest of the city as this one was grounded on the endstone that built the island, constructed from familiar spruce and cobblestone. it was small, at most an 8x5x3, a small farm with wheat and potatoes plotted out the front. the house didn’t have a door or any windows, just a gap in the walls for entering and exiting.  
the group proceeded in silence, trying to ignore how loud the sound of their own hearts and breathing were.   
when they got closer, it became obviously that someone was inside.  
ranboo was inside.   
uneasy and rapid breathing, sharp sobs, painful crying and whimpering, soft and static vwooping emanating from the person within. techno slowed, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.   
should he do it? should he let phil? he should probably let phil. he wouldn’t, though. he wanted to be there- to make sure ranboo was okay.  
he would knock, but there was nothing to knock on, so instead he just slowly made his way into the home, ducking to his knees in a reclined lunge-like position to get on an eye level with the boy crouched in a corner, clutching the split hair on his head.   
“ranboo?” he asked softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle and warm. his words still managed to make ranboo flinch violently, eyes shooting open to look at him.   
they looked red and bloodshot, dull pink teartracks down his face where the moisture had burned his skin over and over and over.  
“ranboo, it’s me, techno. we’ve come to take you home.”

the sputtery, broken voice that ranboo replied with, voice hoarse and barely a whisper that he had to strain to hear, despite being hypersensitive, could almost break his heart, he was sure a part of it shattered right then and there.  
“i-i am... h-home..”  
the word ‘home’ was more of a choke rather than a proper word, like a bile in the back of his throat. ranboo refused to meet his gaze, suddenly filled with uncertainty. what now? what if he mucked it up, what should he do-?  
a nudge from phil got him to back away, allowing the fatherly figure to take his place, calm, placating words instantly falling from his mouth, hardly wavering when ranboo managed to reply in whatever form of discouragement he could.  
in a matter of minutes, phil had ranboo in one of his papabear hugs, and techno knew it was over right then and there. phil would not let go until the boy was safe, wrapping his wings around the boy to cocoon him further. stifled sobs and faint, muffled whispers of ‘please’s and ‘i’m sorry’s filled the air, not stopping when phil stood up with the boy in his arms. he turned, deciding to do what he did best- plan. not fighting, he was arguably better at that, but this isn’t the time. he whispered to bad and tubbo (as to not scare the boy) to search for the portal, and build a safe passageway for phil to it for when they left. the two nodded, and techno could tell they were grateful for the distraction. 

he was left to look around and gather the boy’s pets, thankful to realise that they weren’t malnourished in the slightest (unlike ranboo,) he internally commented grimly. the thing that did force a cold, dreadful form of horror to deep into his bones was that he could see enderpearl, dogboo and jeffrey, but enderchest was nowhere to be seen.  
and ranboo really fucking loved that cat.  
approaching phil, he gently motioned for him to unwrap his wings slightly, so he could direct the question at the boy.  
better sooner rather than later.  
“ranboo, ranboo please listen to me. are you listening?” the faintest nod “good, good- what happened to enderchest?” as soon as the name left his lips, tears began to fall uncontrollably from ranboo’s eyes, distorted whimpers and violent sobs escaping his body once more, and techno realised by the growing arson or purple particles and by the way that he was shaking, that ranboo was going to teleport.  
“ran- ranboo, ranboo listen to me- listen to me, calm down. we’re going back to the overworld. we’ve been looking everywhere for you, we want you home. please.”  
phil’s voice cooed, wrapping him in his wings once more. this time techno could see the way his body trembled and shook despite the man holding him.   
attention turned back to the ‘door’ if the hut, bad coming back and speaking in a whisper (though he heard his voice loud and clear like you would hear a normal inside voice), “we found it. tubbo’s finishing the path.” he nodded his acknowledgment, before turning to phil, relaying the information he’d just been given.   
the only sign that phil heard him was the slightest of nods, and techno took that as his queue.

he found the staircase easily, traversing up the cobble stairs to the portal that would take them home. he was already starting to feel chills, and they’d been there for a maximum of a few hours, 4 tops. ranboo had been here for a whole 4 months, give it take a week or two.  
yeah, it may have been his birthplace, but how the hell did he manage it? it seemed like living hell. cold, quiet, seclusive living hell.

he made sure everyone else was through the portal, including the remaining animals, before stepping though himself, silencing the gawks and exclamations of the people on the other side.  
his ears had adjusted to the higher sensitivity in the end, so everything felt twice as loud.  
only when they were half way to his house, most of the search party dismissed at this point, did he realise how hard that was going to be on ranboo’s ears.

——🥂——

he woke up, heavy and weak, but lay in whatever bed he was in for a few minutes before opening his eyes. the mattress felt soft and warm, not like his own. where was he? the pillow felt fluffy and seemed to swallow his head, unlike his pillow from the end: none.  
the fabric binding his body felt soft and thick, keeping out the cold that still hung around the air, unlike his thin collared t-shirts from the nether.  
he heard the crackle of a fire, though it sounded more like a roaring lion, and he wondered if something had set the room he was in ablaze. when he opened his eyes, he was swiftly provided the evidence that the room was in fact, not on fire.  
the walls were familiar spruce, but the layout was all different. there was a window, painting, chests and decor he never put up in the end-  
he wasn’t in the end.  
he was back in the overworld.  
realising this, he shot up into a sitting position, ignoring the pounding in his head. he tried getting to his feet, but he soon found that something, no- someone held him down.   
anxiety pricked under his skin as something placed a hand on his shoulder, speaking reassuringly: “calm down, blink. you need to regain your energy.”  
blink.  
that’s what tubbo used to call him.  
pinpointing the other’s face, he managed to place the name to the figure- this was tubbo. former president tubbo.  
former? had something happened? he’d done it, hadn’t he? that’s why he hated him, that’s why his thoughts had constantly swarmed with-  
“you need to breathe, mate.”  
another voice. philza. philza? wasn’t he in... the arctic? he... he had blown something up, right? like him, but what-  
what did they blow up, what did he do-  
“just breathe,”  
his voice broke through his sheen of thoughts, forcing him to realise that his breathing was ragged and every time he tried to inhale it caused a sharp, painful feeling in his chest, as if it was being constantly restricted.  
the air was heavy on his tongue, flavours dancing on the tip of his tastebuds, different scents filling his nose.  
wood. cloth. stone. heavy. ash. warm.   
it was too much. there was too much, his legs felt as though they’d give out under him.  
why weren’t they hurting him? he’d spent the last... while... convincing himself they hadn’t wanted him, that they’d rather kill him, so why hadn’t they?  
he couldn’t breath. it was becoming painful, but each time he tries to grasp for a small breath pain went shooting through his ribs, like wildfire. his stomach felt twisted and empty, a constantly pang of hollowness, his muscles felt sore and his head felt heavy with the incessant banging and throbbing.  
they were talking now, but he didn’t have the focus to hone in on their words, and suddenly there was someone else by his side, holding him up before he fell to the wooden floor.   
black spots started to dance in his blurring vision, unfocused and blinded by tears yet to fall. his body was pulled close to the other, and panic flooded his senses once more- who- who was it? blue cape, cape, crown? crown- hair, braided, pink-  
technoblade.  
oh god it was technoblade.

“techno,”  
he managed to force out, throat burning. sore.  
“shhh, calm down ranboo. breathe.”  
why was everyone telling him to breathe? he was- he- he couldn’t. oh, oh his he- he couldn’t breath- he-  
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t mean too, i don’t know- i’ll go back, i’ll leave you alone i’m sorry, we didn’t think it through we’ll go back i promise i’m sorry, i-“  
the words were hard, but he forced them out, tumbling at a rapid pace from his lips.   
but there was no violence, no distaste or hate or even annoyance in techno’s movements, wrapping his arms around his back to... hug him?  
he was hugging him?  
hug... hug- had, had he ever had one before? he briefly remembered an encounter with tubbo.. no, that wasn’t right, was it?  
he was still stiff, incoherent apologies still falling from his mouth, leaving him even more breathless and woozy.  
“breathe.”  
it felt like as much a request as it did a demand, feeling the vibrations of the words in his own chest. something about it was convincing, an order he couldn’t help but yield to, though allowing tension to leave his body as the air filled his lungs, pushing past the sharp sting of his ribs against his lungs.   
“good job. just keep on breathing, you’re alright.”  
the words were warm, soft against his aching eardrums, armed with the affection he’d been longing for since he was a young child. coupled with the protective warmth of the hug and the hand running through his soft hair, he felt protected. safe. something he could never have claimed to be up until that point.  
fingers dragged rhythmically against his scalp, comforting and gentle in nature. it coaxed his subconscious into a relaxed state, as he allowed himself to be ceaseless by the older, wanting to drown in the affection he’d been so longing for.  
maybe it was selfish, it probably was. he didn’t care, he felt wanted, cared for- loved. 

so what if he let the darkness cradle him, sweep him away and drift off to sleep still held in the comforting embrace?  
he thought he deserved it, but by god he really did.


End file.
